A Wizard's Respite
by A Silver Dolphin
Summary: He fought their battles for them. He led the resistance for them. He won the war for them. It made him strong. Strong enough to be called the Incarnation of Magic itself. Far too strong for their liking. He asked for peace. They called him a Dark Lord. The Master of Death decided enough was enough.
1. But the Next Great Adventure

**Hey there. A Silver Dolphin here. Thanks for giving this a read. A bout of nostalgia and an attempt to overcome writer's block has brought to you the first chapter of A Wizard's Respite. This is the second story I've ever written. Please enjoy.**

 **While I'm not too well versed in WoW lore, my childhood was spent playing Warcraft 3: Reign of Chaos, and The Frozen Throne. Sadly, as of late, I've had no time for games. (Get it? Eh? I'll stop now.)**

* * *

Death was kind.

For those who were torn apart from their loved ones by the machinations of war, death was the promised reunion.

For those who were weary, tired of the endless tragedies life had forced upon them, death was the promise of rest, and perhaps in time, a new, happier beginning.

But to Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived turned Man-Who-Conquered, Death was a friend.

"You know, Harry, for a person who's name ought to appear next to the definition of 'betrayed' in the dictionary," A familiar voice teased. "You're certainly doing well for yourself."

The person in question turned towards the source of the voice.

"Interesting choice in appearance, Death." He returned. "Gotten bored _again_ , I see."

His eyes took in Death's latest façade. _She'd_ donned the visage of a young woman. One with a curious extra appendage. Feathered wings of onyx divulged from her shoulder blades, contrasting hair and eyes of bright silver.

"The Angel of Death." She curtsied. "A depiction of myself drawn by an inspired artist. I've grown quite attached to this form. For this alone, he'll pass in his sleep, departing of old age."

"Not that I dislike your company, far from it actually, but what brings you to my humble abode?"

"Potter _Castle_ is far from a humble abode." She deadpanned. "Seriously though? A solid gold enchanted toilet seat?"

Harry muffled a laugh.

"Compliments of the Malfoy vaults. I would've loved to see the look on Lucius's face when he discovered all his vaults were empty. But anyway, what brings you here?"

"Can't I just visit my 'master'? Ferrying souls to my realm does get boring after a few eons. Even a primordial force like me needs some companionship every now and then."

Harry deadpanned.

"What? Death gets lonely too you know."

He might've believed her if she hadn't started averting his eyes.

"...You know me, I don't like beating around the bush."

"…I've come to ask you a question."

"And what would that be?"

"Why do you not seek vengeance?" The black winged Angel asked. "After all they've done to you…Banishment. Isolation. I certainly wouldn't mind crossing a few names off my list earlier than planned."

The Wizard sighed.

"It's tempting. Merlin knows they deserve it…But I can't. I'd really be the Dark Lord they're making me out to be if I did."

The Wizard smiled wistfully.

"And honestly, I prefer seeing my 'banishment' as a sort of mandatory vacation, and a chance to finally do what _I_ want. Outside of Britain, of course. Bet they miss my gold, though."

"Besides, as master of your three hallows, I've got all the time in the world. A century or two spent travelling the world, researching the wonders of magic sounds…magical. Let them waste their lives trying to find me."

Death cringed at the pun. She then settled her face back into one of indifference.

"They did find you. Within the year. Your name showed up on my list, _master._ "

The air chilled as his magic sent the temperature plummeting to sub-zero levels.

"…But how?"

"An ancient precursor to the _Killing Curse_. You won't die per say. Your soul will be shattered, never to be whole again. An eternity spent mindlessly searching for pieces of yourself. A fate worse than _Death._ " She stated grimly. "Accursed humans. A method to fracture souls should never have existed. Fate's let humans run amok for far too long."

 _Damned Potter Luck. I can't even die normally._

The air settled, returning to a homely, comfortable warmth.

"Could I ask for a favour, Death?"

She nodded. For all he'd been through, no request was too extreme. She'd take care of this problem, if he'd only asked. He was her…companion now. Not one of Fate's playthings.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to show a man a good time before he goes?" A mischievous grin swept aside his pensive look.

The primordial deity felt her jaws drop low enough to hit the castle floor. Then she blushed.

"You! You! Be serious for a moment!"

"Well, realistically, you're probably the closest thing I have to a friend now. And if your words hold true, I doubt I'll ever get any other chance."

"I'll give you that other chance." She desperately fought her growing blush. "The List applies only to _this_ world."

* * *

Alexstrasza, the Life-Binder, guardian of all life on the world of Azeroth, wished only for one thing.

For death to finally claim her.

How many years had passed since she was enslaved by these foul Orcs, stripped of her power? How many of her clutch were twisted from their calling as protectors of life, brainwashed into nothing more than mindless mounts? How many of her children were birthed into slavery, and now dead at the hands of these _monsters_?

She dared to hope as the last few free members of her flight attempted a rescue. She wept as she heard them fight against their enslaved kin, powerless to stop it. She felt her heart shatter as she watched captors celebrate their victory by desecrating the corpses of her consorts and _family,_ warping their bones and scales into armour to be worn.

The soulless Aspect of Life sagged against the chains binding her to the confines of her prison. The physical battle had been lost long ago. All it would take to end the mental one was one last small push, and then she too would become another mindless drake.

But then, she felt _it_.

A pulse of magic.

The fortress walls of Grim Batol, and her prison cell, had been warded to ensure not the tiniest wisp of energy, whether light, shadow or arcane could pass through. No mage, human or elven could overcome a barrier fortified using the blood of dozens of Red Dragons.

Only one of the Blue Flight could. And to overcome the blood of dozens of Red Dragons could only be done by an Aspect. So the fact that she could feel a wisp of magic in the air could only mean one thing.

Malygos, the Spell-Weaver, the _Aspect of Magic_ , was nearby.

Whatever pride she had left was promptly discarded. Summoning the last vestige of her strength, a powerful draconian roar rang throughout the cavern, fear clenching the hearts of the Orcs who'd suddenly remembered exactly who they'd captured.

If only they knew the meaning of the draconian words the imprisoned aspect had shouted.

 _Save me!_

She felt hope prevail as the pulse of magic reacted. It had wavered momentarily, as if in shock. But then, a wave of magic flowed throughout the cavern, unperturbed by the barriers and she recognized it as a scrying spell.

For the first time in what must have been decades, she felt a trace of a smile form on her face. She had been found.

But then the pulse suddenly vanished. Fear and despair once more grasped her heart. She closed her eyes, straining her other senses to desperately seek out the pulse of magic once more.

"Hello?"

Arcane energy saturated the air, enveloping her cell in a power that had never felt so comforting before. Of course, the Spell-Weaver had always favoured teleporting over flying.

"Malygos," Her eyes took in the new, surprisingly human, form of her fellow Aspect. "You are a sight for sore eyes, my brother. I shall never forget this favour."

An entrancing pair of emerald eyes, not the familiar blue ones she knew stared back at her.

"I'm sorry, but who's Malygos?" He asked. "And why are you imprisoned here?"

"I am Alexstrasza, the Life-Binder." She replied, as if it explained everything, struggling to comprehend the situation. "Are…Are you not of the Blue Dragon Flight? Did you not answer my call for help?"

"I'm Harry Potter. A wizard on vacation. I'm not sure what's the Blue Dragon Flight. And yes, I heard your call for help."

A moment of silence pervaded as the two abrupt acquaintances stared awkwardly at one another.

Alexstrasza was truly puzzled. A human mage, capable of understanding draconian speech _and_ wielding magic on the level of Malygos? None had been so powerful since the death of Medivh…

Harry was honestly very curious. She had spoken in parseltongue, yet she did not look like a serpent, much less a dragon. In fact, with her long, sharp ears, and ethereal beauty, if not for the horns he would've believed her to be an elf straight out of a fairy tale.

"Ah. Let me get those chains off you."

With a wave of his wand, the chains and cuffs disintegrated, crumbling into nothingness. She watched in awe as the mithril chains which bound her to the cell walls and striped her of her powers—doubtlessly the masterpiece of a dwarven blacksmith and an enchanter of the highest level—turned into dust.

Now free of her chains, the Aspect of Life found herself at a loss for words. _This couldn't possibly be a dream, could it?_

"…So, shall we apparate, err, teleport out of here?"

At the Wizard's words, arcane energy seamlessly wrapped around her, warmly, almost protectively. She wanted nothing more than to say yes, to put an end to years of torment. But there was something more important than her desires.

"Thank you, Wizard. But, I cannot. These _monsters_ have captured and enslaved my _family_!" Righteous fury engulfed her. "They turned my kin, the protectors of life, into instruments of war! It was my responsibility to protect and lead them, but, I failed. Even if I die, they must suffer this fate not a second longer."

She looked on as the Wizard's face shifted through a myriad of expressions. Shock. Sympathy. Anger. But lastly, doubt. She felt a slight headache arise that vanished just as quickly as it appeared.

And then his eyes seemed to glow with a fervour she'd only seen before when Paladins called forth the full might of the Light, and the warm arcane energy around her _enlivened_. She could feel the magic saturate the room, the enchantments of her cell straining to contain the Wizard's mere presence.

"Would you like some help with that?" He asked in a manner that told her no matter what her answer was, the end result would be the same.

Then he rudely pushed her into the ground. Just in time for an axe to miss her head.

"The prisoner's free, sound the alarms!" The jailor's eyes widened as he spotted the infiltrator. "We're under attack! Call Warden Nek—"

The axe returned to its owner, impaled in his skull, curtesy of a banishing charm.

"Thank you." It seemed as if her senses were far from perfect condition. "Help me, Arch-mage Potter, and I promise that the Red Dragon flight will do all it can to repay you."

He stood up, and with the most captivating smile she'd ever seen, offered her a hand.

"You can start by calling me Harry."

* * *

"We're lost." The Wizard spoke dryly, as dozens of Orc corpses littered the ground.

"Forgive me. The only time I was allowed out of my cell was when they…forced my consorts and I to mate. Give me time to retrace our steps."

 _Excellent job, Harry. Remind your only friend on this world that she'd been—_

"I'm sorry." He cringed and quickly attempted to switch topics. "We're supposed to find the leader of these Orcs here, right? Do you have a name?"

"The Warlock, Nekros Skullcrusher." Alexstrasza spat.

" _Point me_ Nekros Skullcrusher."

The Life Binder felt a pulse of magic traverse in all directions and wondered if this was the spell he'd used to locate her. Within seconds, Harry immediately turned around, and to her embarrassment, headed in the complete opposite direction of which they were travelling.

"Listen, I've had my magic bound before, and afterwards I couldn't fight for weeks." The Wizard glanced at her bruised figure. "Not to mention malnourishment…You would have a much better chance _after_ regaining your strength."

The Wizard's words were true, but he knew nothing of what happened.

She quickly matched his stride, ignoring the fatigue slowly gnawing on her. Her powers may not have been fully restored just yet, but she needed to strike while the iron was hot. Nekros could control the Demon Soul, but not without preparation.

Doubtlessly, by now he would've started channelling the cursed artefact. Within hours, he would no doubt be able to drain her powers again and this time, death would truly claim her and what was left of her flight.

As much as she hated lying, if only by omission, the Wizard must not learn of the immerse power of the Demon Soul, lest he himself fall corrupt to the whispers of the Old Gods. If someone of his calibre were to be corrupted…

 _Titans help us._

"The transgressions of these _monsters_ cannot be allowed to go on a second longer. I am truly grateful, Harry, but I will not be swayed."

The Wizard sighed. He briefly wondered if this was what Hermione had to put up with every time he rushed in.

"At the very least, you shouldn't battle on an empty stomach."

The wizard reached into his pouch and levitated a set of three potions before her.

"Skele-Gro; To mend bones and fractures. Pepper-Up; Improves health and relieves pain. The last one is a food substitute to relieve thirst and hunger."

Alexstrasza smiled faintly. She muttered a thanks and downed the potions. Despite the terrible taste left on her tongue, she felt marginally better, through her condition didn't seem to improve in the slightest.

"Hmm?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's odd. The potions should've kicked in by now."

"I can feel their effects, Harry. But given the size of my true form, I'm afraid it is no more than a drop in the bucket."

"True form?"

"I am a dragon. One of the largest in all of Azeroth in truth."

The Wizard looked sceptical for a moment. She briefly wondered how amusing an expression of awe would look on his face.

"Just to be sure, we're talking about dragons as in giant, fire-breathing, man-eating winged serpents right? And you're saying you are one?"

"I haven't eaten anyone in ages, but nonetheless, a fitting description."

 _...explains the_ _parseltongue at least._

"Well, I do have some more potent potions. Or I suppose I could try my hand at healing spells, though they were never my speciality."

"I have my own healing abilities, but lack the mana to use them...Would you be averse to a mana transfer?" She enquired. "Only if you're willing, of course."

It was rather sad, really, that one of the few similarities between the Blue Dragon Flight, human and elven mages, was that they all guarded their magic and powers with a paranoia so great, even trusted family would be hard-pressed to gain access.

Harry was the same in that regard, but for an entirely different reason. A _tantric_ 'ritual' wasn't something done lightly.

"I think that would be rather…inconvenient right now." A slight blush toned his cheeks.

Ah, the expected response. She sighed briefly.

"But I do have a way for my magic to take on a corporeal form. Would you be able to siphon it?"

"Oh." She quickly overturned her surprise. "Yes, I'd be able to."

" _Expecto patronum_ _."_

* * *

 **AN: When I envision my readers, all I can think of is this quote:**

 **Archmage (WC3)—"This had better be worth it!"**

 **Whelp. Sorry for the mini cliffhanger. I've done my best Milords'. Please don't cast Flame Strike on me. Feel free to review though. I'd love to hear what you think, and while I've more or less got a plot in mind, I'm open to suggestions.**

 **A Silver Dolphin,**

 **Signing out.**

 **04/04/18-Spelling errors rectified**


	2. Of Wizards and Dragons

**Hello! A Silver Dolphin here. My thanks for reading on and a thousand apologies for the long wait.**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Of Wizards and Dragons**

Her first thought was that Ysera would've loved it.

With a gentle smile on the wizard's face, the tine of his wand glowed brightly. Wisps of arcane energy hastened into action, coalescing into a single point. With each passing moment, she could feel her spirits lifting. The mere casting of the spell seemed to exude mana and evoke feelings of…happiness?

Translucent, magnificent light silver antlers shimmered into being, and the silhouette of a horse-like creature began to form. Like when the Wizard first appeared in her cell, a sudden influx of arcane flooded the area, and now the eyes of a mighty stag gazed upon her.

It was beautiful.

The harshness of the fortress walls that had been her prison lost its ominous presence. The hallways seemed brighter, the world itself a little warmer.

The cheerful, almost teasing voice of the Wizard returned her from her daydream.

"It seems that whether dragon, or human, the look of awe on one's face never changes."

"…" Words failed her at this most critical juncture.

Embarrassingly, the wizard appeared to realize that and generously willed the stag forward, until barely any distance remained between them. The stag's head brushed against her palm and a pleasant warmth seemed to encourage her.

"…My thanks, Harry."

She siphoned a trickle of mana, taking a moment to attune to it, before almost greedily devouring in a manner nothing but a dragon could replicate. The mana _tasted_ nostalgic. While obviously arcane in nature (and by the titans was it _intense)_ , it hinted at some other energy.

She felt revitalized, as if the fire within her own depths had been rekindled. As soon as the stag began to waver, she slowed the siphoning, wishing to slightly prolong the moment.

"Huh. That should've been enough for ten wizards…" With a lazy wave of his wand, the stag regained its lustre. "Well, I suppose dragons would need a bit more. But please be quick about it. The hallways are clear, but I bet they'll have a blockade of sorts set up soon."

"Yes, agreed." With her powers returning, her tone found strength. "With haste then, I'll continue my recovery as we move."

As they advanced through the hallways unchallenged and climbed out of prison ward, the Wizard's assumption was quickly proven correct. Behind the heavy, grand doors barring entrance to the great hall, the tell-tale sounds of orders being barked out and heavy movement practically guaranteed an ambush the second they entered.

Harry took a moment to check on his companion.

"Right, before we enter any pitched battles, do you need a weapon or maybe some form of protection?"

"Your concerns speak well of your character, Harry." With slight regret, the last vestiges of the stag vanished, and resplendent ember eyes blazed anew. "But I assure you, all I need is flame and fury. Both of which I now have in abundance."

"Fair enough. You're more than familiar with our foes, do you have a plan? Or would you prefer I take the lead?"

"I do have some siege spells I've been wanting to test…" Harry spoke almost longingly, a keen gleam in his eyes.

 _Oh_ _mages. Ever eager academics._

In any other circumstance, she'd be all too happy to agree. But she'd waited years, if not a full decade for this moment.

The Dragon Queen strode purposely up to the doors.

"Stand back, and cover your ears."

* * *

Brogas Scalebane was no stranger to red dragons. Indeed, he was made chief handler for his skill in taming their whelps, turning them into proper mounts befitting warriors of the Dragonmaul Clan. It was also why he knew something was drastically wrong.

They were never completely silent.

Always, no matter the time of day or where he was in Grim Batol, he'd hear some kind of garbled screeching. They were simple creatures. When he thrashed them, they screeched. When he bred them, they screeched.

Yet now, from the smallest whelp to mounts already prepared and waiting for riders, they were completely still, as if frozen in time. Did it have something to do with the haunting, draconic roar that he'd heard just minutes before?

The door connecting the hallway to the dragon pens slammed open. His head spun around to see a harried orc entered.

"Brogas! Lock up the pens then armour up and head to the great hall, we're being attacked!"

"What?! Wait, the dragons are acting wei—"

"No time, just get it done!" The orc messenger dashed off.

The eerie silence returned. Dozens of eyes followed his every moment. Anxiety took grasp of his soul. Instinctively, he reached for his axe and tightened his grip. With harried movements, he set about checking the chains binding the whelps and securing the muzzles on the mounts.

The sturdiness of the chains, and the familiar weight of iron brought him some measure of comfort. Even if the usual struggle they put up when it was time to be chained seemed a little less dangerous and a lot more deadly today.

His body shot to attention as the haunting, draconic roar he'd hoped never to hear again resounded once again, this time even louder and longer, booming throughout the pens unchallenged, shaking the very ground he stood upon.

" _Arise, my children, Guardians of Life! I am free once more! Teach these slavers of the suffering they have wrought! Let them witness the strength of the Red Dragonflight!"_

Brogas would not be the only orc that day to wish he'd understood even the slightest bit of draconian speech. He would also not be the only one to wish his axe could actually scratch a dragon's scales.

He would however, be the only one to wish that the clan had invested in mithril chains.

* * *

The doors of the great hall had survived the War of the Three Hammers. Dwarven champions, sorcerers, and even siege engines had struggled to break down the doors that barred entry to the hall. It stood tall as a testament of dwarven craftsmanship.

It laid shattered beneath the claws of the Life-Binder.

"Huh…I suppose it's nice to be on the side _not_ running from a dragon, for a change."

Spoken in a language no one on Azeroth understood, Harry's idle musings did nothing to deter what was less a fireball and more an inferno from laying waste to the makeshift barricade. On the contrary, his spells merely added to the madness; chairs, tables, and even the fortress walls themselves had been transfigured into formidable creatures that turned on their defenders.

It was a welcome change honestly, being on the side of overwhelming firepower, disregarding the stench of burnt flesh and screams of pain. He vanished the sword of an orc who thought that charging a Wizard would be clever, then banished him straight into the midst of Alexstrasza's fire breath.

The renewed screaming made Harry wince. Dragon-Fire was most certainly not how anyone wanted to die. That being said, pragmatism was the name of the game.

" _Accio_ orcs."

The dozen or so stragglers and few ranged attackers found themselves swept off their feet and _dragged_ into the fire. Orcs were never meant to fly. It was the desperate clawing and clasping at the ground that made Harry feel a little like the bad guy.

As the last orc dissolved into dust, Harry turned to his now enormous companion.

"Well, you are most certainly a dragon." He spoke with a hint of mirth, before slightly grimacing as she didn't respond. "You seem exhausted. Are you alright, Alexstrasza?"

While he wasn't too familiar with dragon physiology, with her wings torn in places, and scales missing or cracked…

With a mummering of words and a swish of his wand, Harry summoned the stag once more. It quickly trotted up to her. She felt her tension abate slightly.

"…It appears I haven't recovered as much as I thought." She took a moment to breath heavily and regain her humanoid form so as to make speech and recovery easier.

"My strength has waned from years of atrophy. Hopefully, the remnants of my flight have not suffered the same fate. With my message, they should soon come to aid us."

"I've said it before, but you're really in no condition to fight. Even if they'll be unprepared, is there a reason you've got to do this now?"

The Life-Binder's gaze met that of the Wizard's. There was a story behind the strength of his gaze, no doubt. And it'd been he, not her fellow aspects nor her own flight that rescued her. If he had trusted her with his own mana, it was something that must repaid in kind.

"… _Nekros,_ " The name was spat out with hatred. "is in possession of a cursed artefact called the Demon Soul, a weapon that has killed so many of us, and enslaved the entity of the Red Dragonflight. If we were to battle him when he's fully prepared, there would be none that could stand against him."

The Wizard grimaced.

"Fortunately, the artefact takes time to channel. That is why we must strike now!" A hint of fear was heard in her voice, whether for herself, her kin or a mix of both, Harry did not know, but understood nonetheless.

"At its creation, the Demon Soul was imbued with the essence of the Aspects, allowing him to track us down if he so wished. I fear that if we leave now, nowhere would be safe."

"He must be slain." Alexstrasza vowed. "Even if I perish in the attempt."

Harry's face contorted briefly before returning to a light frown.

"What would happen if he's interrupted? Would the artefact explode? Or the magic simply not activate?"

"I would expect the latter. The creator had designed it to be wielded by himself, and in his prime, had been the wisest of us."

A rather vicious smile emerged on the Wizard's face.

"On a scale of one to ten, how much do you care about this fortress?"

Alexstrasza decided that she liked this Wizard's smile.

* * *

The Warden of the Dragon Queen smirked. The two draconic roars hadn't rattled him in the slightest.

They merely served as proof that his masterplan worked perfectly.

Nekros Skullcrusher had not gained his position without the wisdom and cunning that so many of his kind lacked.

Only a fool would think himself capable of imprisoning a Dragon Aspect without consequence. It was only a matter of time until he pushed her too far, and she would hazard one last attempt at freedom before she broke.

That would not do.

If she'd escaped, there was a nary a chance that she'd return without the weight of the Greens or the Blues and whatever remained of the Reds behind her. Even with the Demon Soul, he would not survive the battle, and the Dragonmaw clan would perish with him.

No, to ensure her last ditch effort would fail, her mind needed to be turned away from thoughts of freedom. The battle would be all but won so long as she remained within the walls of Grim Batol, where his magic could obscure his presence from her, just as it'd had done to the Shadow Council.

His spell would fool the dulled senses of the Life-Binder, leading her deep into the dungeons, where the traps he'd spent years preparing would bind her until the Demon Soul was primed. A nasty cackle echoed through his tower as he imagined the look of devastation and fury on her face.

And as a Warlock, he knew exactly what would force her hand.

Her mind needed be _enthralled_ with the thought of vengeance. So thoroughly tortured in both body and mind, so consumed with the thought of his demise that she would never willingly leave so long as there was even the slightest chance he'd be slain.

The vast power of Demon Soul swirled around the Warlock's hidden chamber. His heart soared as he neared ever closer to the fruition of a decade long scheme, the cumulation of his life's work—the twisting of Alexstrasza into a broodmare of the Dragonmaul.

And then the stone floor beneath his feet collapsed.

* * *

There were many spells in his repertoire that would aid him in destruction. _Bombarda_ , _Expulso_ , _Confringo_.

All of which would result in calamitous amounts of damage, not that Alexstrasza would've protested. But still, if she wanted the Warlock alive, though presumably only to bathe him in Dragon-fire herself, he needed a spell with finesse.

Long ago, Hermione had only been too quick to explain the intricacies of the _Deprimo_ charm to him. The spell _depressed_ its target, as if gravity itself decided something had offended it. To think there was a magical reason as to why the leaning tower of Pisa, well, leaned. The spell could crumble castles, if cast by a powerful wizard, much to Hermione's dismay. (It was the last time he'd ever overpower a spell around her.)

With little fanfare, but Alexstrasza's attention nonetheless, the Wizard pointed his wand at an abstract point above him, a point roughly seven floors of stone directly beneath the feet of Nekros and the Demon Soul.

"I suppose it's my turn to say 'stand back and cover your ears.'" Harry quipped.

The Life-Binder couldn't help but smile back.

" _Deprimo."_

Belying Harry's soft-spoken words, a green orb teeming with magic shot out from the tine of his wand, violently impacting the ceiling.

A Wizard and a Dragon shared a mutually impatient silence.

A pebble entered free fall. An avalanche of stone followed.

"Hmm. Perhaps the _Defodio_ charm would've been cleaner." Harry complained as bits of rubble landed on his shoulders.

The Dragon Queen's smile showed teeth as she spotted a shade of dark green screaming, separated from a golden disk falling amongst the black and grey bricks.

With vindictive glee, she restored her dragon form and stormed into the avalanche, uncaring of the rubble.

"Nekros…" Harry could _feel_ the dragon emanate wrath. "You had them slay my _children_! _My children_!"

The Warlock's last sight was that of tremendous jaws, as he plummeted straight into rows of razor sharp teeth. He did not live to hear the sound of teeth grinding.

"Well, that was...something." Harry's usual levity was somewhat missing from his tone. "But I suppose he deserved it. Merlin knows what I would've done in your position."

"Forgive me for having you witness that, but it is something I had promised him when I was first captured, and to my shame, one of the reasons I hadn't lost hope."

"No, don't apologize, new world, different culture. Not my place to judge." Harry regained his cheer. "So, what happens next?"

 _New World?_

Alexstrasza set aside her musings, reverting to her humanoid form, and gestured towards the gold disk.

"If you'll stay with me awhile longer…" Harry nodded, much to her relief. "For now, we rest until the rest of my flight has joined us. Afterwards, we must deal with the Demon Soul; it must be rehidden."

"Not destroyed?"

The Dragon Queen sighed.

"All of us Dragon Aspects have tried. Malygos alleged that Deathwing, its creator, had poured much of his own soul into it, and echoes of our own power, preventing us from destroying it. Neither magic nor might can destroy it…"

Alexstrasza watched as the Wizard took on a pensive, almost troubled expression. A sentiment she shared.

 _Yet another Horcrux? Fiendfyre then? But if Dragon-Fire hadn't worked, hopefully…_

"Mind if I try anyway?" Alexstrasza gave Harry a questioning look but agreed nonetheless.

"It can do no harm."

In yet another display of arcane mastery, the Wizard retrieved a miniature chest and placed it on the floor, where it enlarged to a respectable size. Alexstrasza blinked as Harry's hand seemed to sink deeper than the chest should allow as it fumbled around for something.

"Ah, there it is. Almost forgot where I'd placed it."

An ornamental sword, fashioned from pure-silver and beset with magnificent ruby gemstones, gleamed as it saw light for the first time in years. Harry experimented with his grip, practicing a few swings.

"Be cautious, Harry. Weapons have been repelled with twice their force, when striking the artefact."

"Thanks for the warning."

Looking less like a heroic swing, and more an amateur's best effort, the Sword of Gryffindor still cut through the Demon Soul's gold exterior like a knife through butter.

Surprise dominated the Dragon Aspect's face.

"Huh. That went better than ex-"

Alexstrasza pinned the Wizard to the ground, just in time to avoid a burst of _her own_ energy erupting from the cut. As if instinctively seeking out its owner, the Dragon Queen was bathed in a glow of light.

A euphoric sensation coursed through her. With each passing second, the Life-Binder felt her strength return and her powers grow.

Awash in the glow, for a time that felt infinite in length, she sat dazed as distinct tints of blue, green, and bronze lights escaped into the sky, flooding through the hole opened by Harry's spell. She knew instinctively that they would return to her fellow Aspects.

As the last streams of energy filtered out of the Demon Soul, seemingly draining the artefact of its golden colour, she finally regained a clarity she hadn't had in years.

With the brightest smile, she sought out the Wizard. A brief panic spiked as she failed to see him in her surroundings.

Then he coughed, and she looked down. Her hands were resting on the Wizard's chest.

"You know, apart from my head hitting the floor, this feels pretty nice actually."

She wholeheartedly agreed.

* * *

 **AN: It's good to be back. There's a lot I still don't know about the World of Warcraft, and the wiki can rather blank this early in the timeline, so I'd like some input as to what you'd like to see happen in this story, as well as if I've made any mistakes grave enough to retcon.**

 **Like Med'an. (I'm sorry Blizzard, the joke had to be made!)**

 **Anyway, I've bored you enough. Suggestions, corrections, and reviews welcome till the end of time.**

 **A Silver Dolphin,**

 **Signing out.**

 **P.S. Please recommend a good nickname for Alexstrasza. Her name's rather cumbersome to fit into light-hearted conversation.**


End file.
